The life of Jane Eyre
by Redbird97
Summary: Jane Eyre at Gateshead Hall, similar to the start of the original book, but with a twist. It is set in the modern day and is the ghostly visit from her uncle really her imagination?


I sat on the window seat, watching the rain fall in sheets. The grass was sodden and the roses were dripping. The dreary weather seemed to fit my mood. I preferred solitude. My cousins here were spoilt and were rude to me- especially John. I swallowed at the thought of him, the hairs on the nape of my neck suddenly on end. I ensured the red curtain was pulled right round before I opened my book, based on animals. It was the only book I had managed to get hold of, but it was okay. The words were extremely boring but the pictures were fascinating. All until the door to the drawing room opened and John entered.

"Jane?" He called, rather mockingly. I held my breath. He chuckled to himself and I heard his footsteps get closer. He was so close I could hear his low breathing. I trembled.

"I know you're behind there, Jane. There's no need to hide, now." He pulled the curtain across.

"Ah, I was correct. Now, stand up." I daren't have disobeyed. I stood up, our bodies nearly touching. He was considerably taller than me. His expression was menacing. He seized my wrist and twisted my arm. I bit my lip to prevent myself from crying. Mrs Reed would hate me even more if I got John into trouble.

"Aw, does that hurt?" He released me. I went to run but he caught me by my hair.

"No running, Jane. I haven't finished yet." He laughed and grabbed my neck, slamming me into the wall across the room. The pain was unbearable, and so was the fact that I couldn't breathe.

"I hate you, Jane. I think mum agrees with me. Make that everyone here." He punched my face. I managed to bite his hand, in self-defence. His eyes glowered as he whispered,

"Oh dear, Jane." into my ear and yelled,

"Oh my God! Mum, help! Jane really hurt me! Come quickly!" He made fake agonized sounds as he wiped blood from my nose and smeared it on his own. Mrs Reed soon arrived, her dark hair scraped back into a neat bun.

"Oh! My poor John. What on earth has happened?" She rushed over to him, helping him stand up from his fake cowering.

"Jane attacked me. She hit me and then bit me! I swear, she's freakin' mad." He glared at me, a look of triumph in his eyes, that his mother never seemed to notice.

"Jane! You horrible child. Apologise now."

"Sorry." I muttered. Bessie, the house-maid, the only person that genuinely cared about me at all, entered. She was in her twenties, and quite pretty. She looked shocked, and slightly out of breath.

"What's happened?" She asked, looking at all of us. Mrs Reed informed her.

"You see, she's mad!" John shouted, slouched on a chair that Bessie had pulled over for him.

"I'm sure something provoked her." Bessie pointed out.

"No, Bessie. Don't stick up for her; she's trouble. Always has been and always will be." Mrs Reed said, glaring at me coldly.

"Take her away, Mum." John ordered.

"I will, John. Please stay here and wait for me. I will get you seen to as soon as I can." Then, she grabbed my arm. Bessie grabbed my other. I had no other choice but to scream in detest. They hauled me up the staircase and into the most seldom used room in the whole of Gateshead Hall- that of where my deceased uncle had died, the Red Room- his death the only reason I was living there. They locked me in, Mrs Reed talking about me in bad light as if I wasn't present. I had to sit on a chair and just wait. My head hurt from the punch, and I suspected that Bessie knew John was lying because she asked me in private before she left whether I was okay and if my head hurt, to which I had replied that I was fine. I knew she would never stand up for me because she could lose her job, and nobody cared about me that much.

It was eerily creepy in that room because my uncle's ashes were in there, on his studying desk, in a wooden box. I stared at them, despite being scared of them. There were neat, untouched stacks of paperwork and neatly organised pens surrounding it.

I soon began to grow tired, and soon it was dark outside. I stretched my legs as they had grown stiff and numb. Then, as the moonlight flooded in, I felt fear. I closed my eyes for a long while, trying to ease it, but it only grew, as a strange chill crept down my spine. I opened my eyes. A strange apparition appeared before me in the dark. I thought it was my uncle. I was so scared I screamed, louder, LOUDER… He, or _it_, came closer. I remembered falling, and then everything blacked out.


End file.
